


Will someone tell me what's going on tonight

by elareine



Series: Advent Calendar 2019 [23]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Break Up, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Dick returns to his apartment one night to find his world falling apart.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Wally West, Dick Grayson/OMC (past), Dick Grayson/Wally West (hints)
Series: Advent Calendar 2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558834
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85





	Will someone tell me what's going on tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Advent calendar day twenty-three: "Suitcase" by Emeli Sandé.

Dick wasn’t quiet when he entered the apartment. It was seven a.m., after all. Last night’s patrol had run late. Most days, he came home just in time to catch a nap with his boyfriend, but today he would be lucky just to get a kiss from Braiden as he left. 

But there was no one to greet him as he opened the living room window. 

Dick frowned. Had he forgotten something? Today wasn’t a weekend day, was it? 

He quickly checked his wrist. Nope. Thursday. His boyfriend was scheduled to leave at 7.30 am, as usual. But the silence around him told him he was alone. 

What else could it be? Being an auditor wasn’t exactly the sort of job that called on you unexpectedly, though Braiden’s employers had demanded a lot of overtime lately. 

That was when Dick noticed: Braiden’s clothes were gone. Usually, Braiden was as much as a slob as he—not too bad, but some clothes always ended up in a corner they shouldn’t. When Dick’d left that evening, he’d noted the bright green shirt hanging over one of the kitchen chairs especially. It clashed terribly with the curtains. Dick appreciated that. 

Now it was gone. The entire apartment seemed weirdly colorless all of a sudden. 

Abandoned. 

Dick frowned, getting out his phone to call Braiden, ask if everything was alright, if there was an emergency with his mother again—his eyes caught on something, and he froze. 

Braiden’s keys. 

He’d left his keys. 

Why would he leave without his keys? Dick thought numbly. He would have no way to get back into the apartment—

Oh. 

Dazed, he made his way over to the bedroom. Here, too, he found gaps where their life had been. 

The big suitcase—the yellow-and-blue monstrosity Tim had given them for Christmas last year, most likely just to see Damian twitch—was gone. For the first time, Dick felt something like anger stir in him, because how dare he. That was a gift from Dick’s brother. 

It quickly faded when he saw that Braiden’s books were gone, too. His favorite pillow, the meds on the bedside table, his reading glasses—the only thing of Braiden’s left behind were the pictures of the two of them. 

_Message received_ , Dick thought, but he reached out for his phone nevertheless, dialing the number that had been number three on his speed dial for three years. 

The dial tone sounded. Again. And again. 

“Yo, this is Braiden’s mailbox. Leave a message, or just text me like it’s the twenty-first century.” 

Dick swallowed. “Hey, it’s Dick. Could you—” _Tell me what happened._ “—just let me know that you’re okay? Thanks. Bye.”

Hanging up felt very final. Dick couldn’t deal with it. His fingers automatically found one of the few people he always wanted to talk to when he felt lost.

“Nightwing?” The worry in Bruce’s voice was palpable. 

Dick didn’t know how to reassure him. ‘I’m fine’ would’ve been a blatant lie, and they didn’t do that anymore. “Braiden left.” 

“Oh, son.” 

“I just came home and—” Unable to stand still despite how bone-tired he was, Dick walked back to the living room, pacing in front of the window as he tried to figure out what to say. Bruce waited him out patiently. “His stuff is gone, but his keys are all there. He—he didn’t say anything, or write, or—”

Bruce growled. “So he let you find out yourself, without warning, without a note, with no way of knowing in what condition you’re coming home?” 

“He’s not obligated to be considerate of my vigilante stuff,” Dick sighed. 

“Maybe not,” Bruce conceded reluctantly. “But it was still unkind.” 

Yes. Yes, it had been unkind. 

“What do I do now?” Dick hated how small his voice sounded, like he was a child asking Bruce for direction. But he was exhausted, and sad, and he didn’t want to do this alone. 

“What do you want to do? I can be there in thirty,” Bruce offered. 

“I want to see Wally.” The answer came without thinking, but Dick realized it was true. He had wanted to hear his dad’s voice—the reassurance that he would make it through this—and now he wanted his best friend.

“Then go to him,” Bruce told him. “And Dick? Call me again later?” 

“I will.” 

When Dick hung up, he hesitated for a moment—he should change out of his costume, take a shower, but… he couldn’t make himself go back into the bedroom, right now. 

_Can I come over?_ They didn’t live far apart, these days. In fact, Dick had just seen Wally three hours ago, speeding past him in a flash (heh) of red and gold. 

_Of course!!_ _What happened?_

Dick didn’t know how to answer that, so he didn’t. As a consequence, Wally opened his window before Dick could even tap on it, pulling him inside with a look of concern. “Dick, what—”

“Braiden left,” he said. It wasn’t any easier to say the second time. “Just… left.” 

Wally’s face tightened, and he reached out, pulling Dick into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” 

With something like a sob, Dick grabbed onto Wally’s hoody, holding on tightly as if it could keep him from drowning. Dick tried to regulate his breathing. Wally’s smell, earthen and familiar, was its own particular kind of comfort, so he concentrated on that. 

“You’re shaking,” Wally murmured. “Let me—”

Hands moved too quickly for Dick to see, and before he knew it, his costume was off and he was on the couch, a warm comforter pulled over him. The whole time, Wally hadn’t let go of him. 

And finally, finally, Dick let himself cry. Wally didn’t try to stop him, only held him close and kept him warm until the tears finally started to wane. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Wally’s voice was very matter-of-fact. 

“Don’t be angry,” Dick found himself plead. 

It was just—Braiden had been the first guy Dick had been with. Not the first one he’d wanted, not by far, but the first time he’d dared cross that line with. It meant something, even if it now lay in shatters.

Wally just held him tighter. “Yeah, see, that’s gonna be difficult. ‘Cause he hurt you, and I don’t take that lightly. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“Not now.” 

“Okay. Whatever you need.” 

Dick hesitated, but—he hadn’t been held like this in a long time, like it was just good to be close, like he was something precious, like he mattered. Like it wasn’t about sex or habit. “Can we stay like this for a bit?” 

Wally pressed a kiss into his hair. “As long as you want to.” 


End file.
